


Little Blessings

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: Darren and Chris and their relationship with bathrooms.





	Little Blessings

Based on the fact that [this](https://twitter.com/candedondestas/status/984041236855185408?s=19) happened.

 

_2011_ **  
**

 

In all honesty, Darren isn’t sure he’s going to survive the night.

 

They’ve all gone clubbing- a break from the rigorous rehearsal and show schedule of the tour, and Darren would usually take this as an opportunity to let loose and make some bad decisions while the night’s still young.

 

Well, usually. Not since Chris turned 21, anyway.

 

Every time they’ve gone out since, Darren’s been too busy  _staring_  to actually  _do_  any getting loose. When Chris drinks, something changes. Sure, Darren’s plenty attracted to him when they’re  _not_  under the pulsing strobe lights and thick smoke, but when Chris’ cheeks are ruddy with alcohol, the blush spreading down underneath his button up, something in him sort of snaps.

 

He gets loose and fluid, the elasticity in his muscles even more apparent than usual. Most people get clumsy when they’re drunk. Chris gets  _boneless_.

 

He’s like that right now, swaying to the thrumming rhythm of Nelly Furtado, and Darren’s on his third whisky on the rocks, trying desperately to actually pay attention to what Chord’s saying.

 

It’s not working very well, not when Chris looks the way he does. His lips are rosebud red and slick from the tequila sunrises he always orders, a thin sheen of sweat already forming on his brow. Chris’ hair has escaped to fall over his forehead, and he brushes it back as he laughs, head thrown back and uncaring.

 

“-and do something about it.”

 

Chord’s voice comes back to Darren, emphatically loud in his ear. Darren turns to face him so fast that his nose bumps Chord’s chin.

 

“Shit, sorry, man,” Darren murmurs distractedly. “What did you say?”

 

“I said,” says Chord, grinning, “get off your sorry ass and  _do_  something about it.”

 

“Do something about what?”

 

“Are you seriously asking me to spell it out?”

 

Darren holds up his hands in feigned innocence, and Chord raises his eyebrows. They both turn to Chris, who’s now started doing body shots with the girls. His adam’s apple bobs as he downs the shot, pink tongue drawing up the salt from his wrist in one sweep, leaving the slick shine of spit on his wrist.

 

Darren groans.

 

“Still need me to spell it out?” he hears Chord say, and Darren tips back the rest of his glass. Before he can retort, Chris comes over to them, eyes shining. He threads his arm through Darren’s, and taps his fingernail against the empty drink.

 

“Okay, why are you standing here by the bar and not even drinking anything?”

 

Darren tries to focus on Chris’ face, and not let his eyes wander down to the place where their hips bump together. “I’m just-  _observing_.”

 

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Either you’re at the bar to drink, or you’re not having enough fun.”

 

“I’m having fun!” Darren replies indignantly, and Chord coughs inconspicuously. 

 

“I’m just gonna go-,” he waves vaguely in the direction of the girls, “check out what everyone else is up to.”

 

Chris follows his line of sight to where Jenna is heaving huge, broken sobs into her hands, and Naya is very drunkenly trying to comfort her. “Good luck with that.”

 

Chord raises his glass. “Yeah, gonna need it, I think. You too, dudes.” He eyes Darren meaningfully, and this time he’s not inconspicuous at all.

 

Chris turns back to Darren, quirking an eyebrow. “Did he just wish us luck?”

 

Darren’s eyes flicker down to Chris’ lips. “I think he did.”

 

***

 

They end up in the bathroom.

 

“I cannot believe-” Chris says, gasping to the side when Darren’s kisses divert from his lips to his jaw, “that you’re helping me fulfill my gay bar milestone.”

 

“-isn’t,  _mff_ , a gay bar,” Darren manages to get out, before he zones in on a particularly perfect collarbone.

 

Chris arches his neck and digs his fingers into Darren’s shoulders, tightening the criss-cross grip. “It’s totally a milestone if we wake up tomorrow with bruised knees.”

 

Darren pulls back to look Chris in the eye. His lips ache and his hair is curling into his eyes and he knows he looks like a  _mess_ , but he really just needs to know-

 

“ _Yes_ , you asshole,” Chris says, before Darren can even start. “I want this,” he whispers more softly.

 

Darren brushes a thumb across Chris’ lips, and presses a careful, firm kiss there. “Good.”

 

***

 

_2018_

 

23:48 -  _Help._

 

Darren turns his phone off and flips it in his hands, imagining Chris pulling his own out and laughing like he always does when Darren needs rescuing.

 

23:52 - _ **911, what’s your emergency?**_

 

23:53 -  _I haven’t seen you all day and I need my Chris fix._

 

23:54 -  _It also doesn’t help that you’re so close by and I can’t even touch you._

 

23:55 -  _ **You’re “working”, Dare.**_

 

23:56 - _Not anymore. My throat’s kinda raw._

 

23:57 -  ** _Ouch_**.

 

23:58 - _Can you slip away?_

 

00:00 -  _ **We were about to leave anyway. I’ll be there soon.**_

 

00:01 - _I love you._

 

00:02 -  _ **One minute and I’ll be able to tell you the same in person. <3**_

 

Chris takes four and a half minutes, and Darren waits at the back entrance for him, tapping the case of his phone to the beat of the music coming from inside. An uber slides past and Chris hops out, saying a hurried goodbye to the other passenger before walking briskly over to Darren, and kissing him soundly.

 

“I love you too,” he says, nose pink with the cold.

 

Darren curls his arms around Chris’ neck and presses their bodies flush together. “Come inside.”

 

“Do I really want to?” Chris asks, voice muffled by Darren’s shoulder. His breath is hot through the thin cotton of his shirt, and Darren shivers.

 

“The staff bathroom has a lock on it.”

 

He pulls back to see Chris’ eyes glint.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

***

 

There’s nothing but the staggered shudder of a zipper in the echoing silence of the bathroom, and then the quiet  _thunk_  of Chris’ head hitting the tiles as Darren sinks to his knees.

 

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” Chris whispers, watching while Darren slides his jeans down.

 

“If anything’s going to soothe my throat,” he replies, bringing his palms up to grip Chris’ bare thighs, “it’s going to be the healing properties of your dick.”

 

Chris’ laugh turns into a groan as Darren sinks down without preamble, and he revels in the steady weight on his tongue, the soft skin and heady taste, the smell that sends Darren’s brain into the overdrive that is  _Chris Chris Chris Chris._

 

“Sweetheart,” Chris gasps, carding his fingers through Darren’s hair, “slow down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

 

Darren pulls off with a slick  _pop_ , and eyes him petulantly. “I know how to suck dick, baby.”

 

When Chris’ musical laugh is once more muffled by a groan, Darren smiles to himself and thanks the blessings that are staff bathrooms.

 

***

 

“I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times we’ve done this.”

 

They’re sitting hip-to-hip on the floor, and the room smells like sex and sweat and the pine air freshener that they’d hastily sprayed in case they needed to make an innocent exit.

 

Darren traces a circle into the material of Chris’ pants. “Sneaking off for bathroom sex?”

 

“Yeah. My favorite’s always the Dolby Theatre.”

 

“Mmm, double story bathrooms are always good ones.”

 

Chris hums thoughtfully. “So many surfaces…”

 

“... _enormous_  cubicles…”

 

“...and those little mints they leave in the glass bowls.”

 

Darren lifts his head from Chris’ shoulder to look at him. “We’ve had a pretty fucking awesome run so far, huh?”

 

Chris squeezes his hand. “That’s an understatement.”

 

He pulls himself to his feet, and then tugs Darren up as well. “Think you can escape early tonight?”

 

“Fuck it.”

 

Chris presses a firm kiss to Darren’s lips. “Yep, fuck it.”


End file.
